Punctured
by Black-Winged Magician
Summary: Why Amelda and Varon's relationship does not and will not work out ever. Period.


Eventually, Varon and Amelda became more than just 'friends' and were officially labeled an item by Raphael and Dartz, even though the latter of the two was all too happy to skip over the details of his minions' personal relationships. Mai did not care the least, so her reaction will not be mentioned because this story is already too long as it stands. You may wonder how in the goddamned world Varon suddenly switched from being a perky little snotball to being romantically gay with the once-antisocial-sonofabitch-but-now-very-cuddly-Amelda. It's called a plot-filler. Which is basically what the Doma Arc is.

Generally, things worked out smoothly between the two, except one issue always remained unsolved. Amelda and Varon tried to avoid bringing up the problem because it interfered with their lovemaking…until they discovered that was rather hard to do because said problem was about their lovemaking in the first place.

On afternoon, the two Doma warriors locked themselves in Varon's room in order to have a session of hot and passionate sex. Amelda gasped as hot kisses trailed down his naked chest, making him whimper in pleasure. Hips grinded passionately with his own and it was driving him _crazy_. Amelda moaned, letting his partner dominate his body for the time being, but it was then hands trailed farther than he would have liked to have gone—

—gray eyes widened.

_Way. Too. Low._

It was then the angels lost their halos. "Hey, hey, HEY!" Amelda shouted indignantly, snapping out of his blissful trance. He roughly pulled away from his male lover. "What **ARE **you doing?"

Varon reluctantly pulled away as well and looked at him, slightly dumbfounded. "…making love to you," he replied bluntly.

Amelda blinked at his clear-cut choice of words. "Ex-excuse me?" he stammered before shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry, buster but I think you've got it all wrong." He stabbed a finger into Varon's naked chest. "I should be making love to **YOU**."

Now it was Varon's turn to get angry. "What are you talking about?" he shouted, his temper rising steadily. "I'm obviously the seme!"

Amelda let out a harsh, barking laugh. "You?" he snickered. "Varon, the day I see you being the dominant one of our relationship is the day Dartz stops using so much hair gel."

Varon snorted loudly at his sardonic reply. "Amelda, I am fully capable of being a seme." He stopped before adding in wilily, "You're just angry because then you would end up being the uke."

An indignant sputter. "I am most certainly not submissive!"

"Your shirt says otherwise!"

Amelda exhaled disgustedly. "Dammit, I'm not even wearing my shirt! You tore it off with your teeth and now it's in shreds in that corner!" He jerked his thumb rudely at the evidence. "And it was my best shirt!"

Varon paused, letting his words sink in. Gods, that boy was hot without his shirt. The moment that thought pooped into his mind, Varon tore his eyes away from Amelda's chiseled abs and stared at moldy ceiling instead. No, this was a bad time to get turned on! _Think of a comeback, Varon, think of a comeback…_

"…that's my point," he finally said lamely.

Amelda blinked. "That was **NOT **your point!"

Unable to be the underdog of the verbal banter any more, Varon rolled over and sat up on the bed with a determined look in his eyes. "Alright, Amelda…there's only one fair and rational way to solve this problem," he stated seriously.

Amelda stopped shouting and nodded for him to continue.

The brunette firmly stuck out his hand. "Rock, paper, scissors."

Amelda quirked a slim eyebrow at the incongruity of his choice of the 'rational way' but decided to say nothing against it. After all, it was the best solution they had right now. He turned his nose up derisively but stuck his hand out anyway.

"Rock, paper, scissors!" they shouted simultaneously.

Varon stared at his hand. "…"

Amelda stared at his hand. "…"

There was a pause.

"…I saw your hand twitch!" Amelda finally accused. "Best two out of three!"

The blue-eyed boy frowned for a second, before his frown disappeared into a seductive grin. "Fine, but I'm taking out the handcuffs if you lose this round…"

Amelda glared in return but once again, he stayed silent. He merely stuck out his hand again.

"Rock, paper, scissors!"

Varon stared at his hand. "…"

Amelda stared at _his _hand. "…"

There was another pause, before Amelda blushed furiously and began sputtering incomprehensible words.

"Best three out of five!"

And so their antics went on until everyone's favorite steroid-abusing blonde walked through the front door an hour later, his arms clutching a brown paper bag filled to the brim with groceries. Raphael glanced around. No Varon. No Amelda.

He half-hoped in the crevices of his mind that that the two of them had peacefully settled their differences and went their separate ways to their rooms. However, this theory was quickly disapproved when he laid eyes on the living area formally known as the den. The blonde quirked an eyebrow at the damage that was done to the penthouse during the short period of time that he left.

For some odd reason, there were half-played out board games scattered across the floor accompanied by numerous empty beer bottles. In one corner was the television, still turned on and set to the video game mode—currently flashing a YOU LOSE in big, red letters. A jump rope was draped carelessly over a chair, there were colorful hula hoops circling a vase, and Raphael knew it was futile to even _wonder_ why there was a huge, gaping hole in the ceiling with a suspicious-looking trampoline underneath it.

Raphael came to one very solid conclusion: **he was screwed**. For the sake of retaining his sanity, he decided to ignore everything that he just saw. Raphael, being the smart person that he was, also decided to ignore the outburst of, "_best twenty-one out of twenty-three!_" that emitted conspicuously from Varon's room.

He glanced up at the mega-huge hole punctured in the ceiling and frowned.

"And there's still mortgage on that roof…"


End file.
